


Stay.

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A minor one, Accidentally slept with roommate's ex, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Iwaizumi, Demisexual Character, First Time, Head Injury, M/M, Profanity, Slight Memory Loss, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When some idiot was pounding on Hajime's door at stupid o'clock in the morning, he didn't expect to find his roommate's ex-boyfriend standing there, confessing. He definitely doesn't expect to wake up in bed with the guy, having a murderous headache and no idea how the hell they ended up there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Seijou Week — Day 5: Iwaoi. It is also hella smutty, but I shall not apologize.

His head was _pounding._ Hajime couldn’t remember the last time his skull had ached in such an emphatic way, as if a hundred tiny cannons were shooting fire straight into his brain. With a whimper, he threw his arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight sneaking into the room.

Except his arm wouldn’t move. Because there is someone laying on it.

“Shit,” he muttered as he looked over next to him and saw his roommate’s ex-boyfriend naked and cuddling against him. “Shit, shit, _shit_!”

Hajime had never woken up with someone in his bed before, and he never thought that streak would break with Oikawa Tooru — probably the most annoying human being alive.

As if he was either unaware or uncaring of Hajime’s distress, Oikawa languidly stretched, propped his cheek on his palm, and said sleepily, “Good morning, Iwa-chan.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Hajime stuttered, backing away until the cold air in the room on his bare ass let him know he was a few inches away from falling on the floor. “Why are we both naked?”

Oikawa laughed. “Are you serious? You may be a virgin, but I didn’t think you’d need anatomy lessons.” With a shrug, he amended, “Well, I guess you _were_ a virgin.”

Hajime hit the floor with a thud and a wince. His back screamed in response, and he felt an unholy pain in his lower regions. “God, why does my ass hur — oh, hell no.”

With a sigh, Hajime sprawled on the floor and wondered what insanity he had allowed and how the hell he had been so out of it that he couldn’t remember any of it. “Oikawa, please tell me we didn’t do what I think we did.”

His head popping over the edge of the bed, Oikawa giggled. “And probably a few other things you don’t remember at the moment. Give it time.”

Not in the mood for Oikawa’s obnoxiously bubbly demeanor, Hajime grabbed the nearest object — a discarded pair of jeans — and hurled them at Oikawa’s face. With a squeak of protest, Oikawa dodged the projectile, only to fall off the bed and practically land on top of Hajime. “Hello again,” he cooed.

“Get off!” Hajime roared.

“Already did,” Oikawa said with a smirk. “And it _definitely_ agreed with me.”

Desperate not to notice every single bit of their bodies that were rubbing together, Hajime pushed Oikawa off of his chest and scrambled across the room to his wardrobe. He grabbed the first pair of underwear he could find in the drawer and shoved his legs through. To his general discomfort, they were on backwards, but at the moment, he just wanted to not be naked in front of Oikawa.

“I hate you so much,” Hajime grumbled as he fished out a pair of pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt to put as much _anything_ between him and Oikawa. “Why are you still here?”

Oikawa blinked. “But Iwa-chan, _you_ asked me to stay.”

“And why the everlasting fuck would I do that?” Hajime fired as he nearly toppled over while cramming his legs into his pants. “I didn’t like you when Mariko was dating you, I liked you even less than that when you two broke up, and I can’t even find _words_ for how much I don’t like you _now_!

“So, Asskawa —” Hajime gestured emphatically towards the door. “— get the hell out of my room, and don’t come back!”

When Oikawa’s face pulled into a pout, Hajime glowered, but it melted into a frown when he saw tears slip down Oikawa’s cheeks. “Why are you being so mean? I thought you —”

Hajime pulled his own hair and growled. “Damn it, this is — this is too much right now.” He exhaled heavily and dropped his hands. “You know what, stay here if you want. I need some coffee.”

With that, he left a gawking Oikawa behind him and made the strongest pot of coffee he’d ever done and drank half of it in one go, black.

Only when he could no longer feel his tongue or the roof of his mouth, Hajime went back into his bedroom and found Oikawa exactly where he had left him: sulking on the floor.

“Do you really not remember any of it, Iwa-chan?”

“No, I don’t,” Hajime answered truthfully, but with far less bile than before. There was something about seeing Oikawa in such a pathetic state that made it hard to yell at him the way he knew his unwanted guest deserved. “If you do remember last night, could you _please_ fill me in so I at least know why I got blackout drunk and my ass hurts like crazy?”

 

* * *

 

Someone was knocking on the door hard enough to beat a hole into it, and Hajime wanted to reciprocate on that person’s face. He had the room to himself for the weekend for a change, and he had a paper to write that was due on Monday.

That was, of course, if this _asshole_ would stop trying to plow the door down.

With a concerted effort not to slam his laptop on the coffee table, Hajime stormed over to the door to answer it so he could get back to work.

“What!” he shouted as he flung the door open.

Hajime’s eyes shot wide open when they noticed that the insistent presence was his roommate’s ex-boyfriend, Oikawa Tooru, repeatedly banging his forehead against the wood while his hand strangled the neck of a bottle of sake.

“Um, are you lost, Oikawa?” Hajime asked, not sure how to handle this situation. His roommate was both no longer with this guy and not home to intercept this uncomfortable reunion.

“Iwa–Iwa-chan, you’re heeeeeeeeeeeere!” Oikawa gurgled. “I was just looking for you.”

His mouth twisting into a sneer, Hajime mused out loud, “Well, you missed and found the bar instead. Now, go away. You’ve got no business here. Mariko isn’t here, and she probably doesn’t want to see you anyway.”

Oikawa sighed. “Such a gentleman, defending your lovely roommate’s honor. It’s one of your finer qualities.” Without warning, Oikawa lurched forward into Hajime, a grip on the latter’s arm the only thing keeping him upright. “Well, helloooooo, Bara-chan! Your arms are —” He hiccupped. “— so fantastic.”

Hajime turned red before snatching the bottle from Oikawa’s hand and shoveling his drunken intruder onto the couch. “God, you smell like a brewery.”

“An’ you smell like _man_ ,” Oikawa said in what Hajime supposed was supposed to be a sultry voice. Instead, it came out as slurred and barely intelligible. Just not unintelligible enough.

“I am a man, you moron,” Hajime growled. “Now, what do you want so you can go the hell away?”

Oikawa looked at him with an unreadable expression before making a grabbing motion in the direction of his sake bottle. “I want to forget this whole thing, but I need closure, Iwa-chan.”

“Stop calling me that!” Hajime ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as if to bolster himself with the dull pain. “Look, Oikawa, Mariko broke up with you. You’re done. Now, if you can’t accept that, I _will_ remove you from this apartment and I won’t let you set foot in here again. Understood?” He crossed his arms and glared at Oikawa.

To Hajime’s irritation, Oikawa simply laughed. “Oh, is that what she told you? That’s rich.” He shook his head, which made him wobble in his seat. “She didn’t dump me. _I_ dumped _her._ ”

“Ha!” Hajime barked. “And why am I supposed to believe you over the girl I’ve lived with for three years?”

“Ask her why I dumped her and see how she reacts,” Oikawa said with surprising lucidity. “I doubt she’ll like being reminded that her boyfriend wanted to sleep with her roommate more than her. I’m not surprised she isn’t here. I didn’t think she would be. Not if you were.”

Hajime’s knees felt like buckling. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“I would dearly _love_ to be fucking with you, so I wouldn’t be a sad drunk on your doorstep, but alas, it is the truth.” Once more, he stretched to grab at the sake bottle, and this time, Hajime let him have it after taking one long dreg of it himself.

This was unbelievable. Not to be believed. Falsehood doctored for shock value. Malarkey. A few other things Hajime’s bombarded brain could not convey. “Why are you telling me this, Oikawa?”

“Because I like you, Iwa-chan. Mariko deserved better, but I shouldn’t have to suffer for it because I was trying to make my mother happy.” Hajime started when Oikawa began fending tears off his flushed cheeks. “She really wanted more grandchildren, and I just wanted to give them to her. But I can’t help who I am and who I like.”

Oikawa set the bottle down on the table and proceeded to sob into his knees.

Hajime didn’t know what to say, how to stop this fountain of wildly inappropriate confessions. Oikawa liked him. _Liked_ him — the make-lewd-jokes-while-eyes-sparkle-with-promise sort of ‘like.’

And he was also drooling on the couch. While asleep.

“Oh, hell,” Hajime grumbled as he adjusted Oikawa on the couch so he wouldn’t drown if he vomited. He shuffled the small waste basket from his own room in front of Oikawa just in case.

However, when he began to lift himself off the floor to retire to his room, a hand shot out and held Hajime in place. “Please don’t go.”

Underneath the reedy, sleep-soaked timbre of Oikawa’s voice lay a neediness that pinned Hajime in place like he was tied to the floor. That, and Oikawa had ridiculously strong hands. “Okay,” Hajime said, resigned to sit on the floor until Oikawa’s grip was flaccid enough to escape. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

The room was quiet for several minutes, and Oikawa’s breathing was loud but even. Hajime thought he might have been asleep, so he tested the grip on his wrist. To his dismay, he found it to be iron-clad.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa rasped, “why do you hate me?”

Hajime frowned. “Because you’re ridiculous and you broke my roommate’s heart.”

Oikawa chuckled, though the sound came out as more of a gurgle. “That’s not a good reason to hate someone. Dislike, maybe, but not hate. I can’t help the way I am, and I did the right thing by Mariko. I don’t think that deserves your hatred.”

Opening his mouth to disagree, Hajime found that he couldn’t find the words to do so because Oikawa was right. And he admitted it out loud.

Bright amber eyes met his, no longer as sleepy as they had been seconds ago. “Do you mean it, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Hajime shrugged. “Besides, I don’t know the first thing about you.”

In the course of the next five minutes, Hajime felt like he learned more about Oikawa than he knew about himself. His favorite color, food, where he went to school, random allergies, what sport he played (which was the same that Hajime had played; who knew?), his nephew’s name, who he lost his virginity to (and apparently some guy named Tobio should’ve been glad his dick was still attached), and that he hated polyester more than words could convey.

By this point, Hajime’s butt was beginning to ache due to his seat on the floor. Shifting uncomfortably, he said, “I know you wanted me to stay and all, but the floor is killing me right now and I really need to get some sleep if I’m not getting any work done on my paper.”

“Okay,” Oikawa whispered. Hajime was sure that meant that it was not actually okay, but he gently reminded himself that he hadn’t invited Oikawa in the first place and was by no means responsible for his comfort. Oikawa was lucky he wasn’t sleeping in the damned hallway while wrapped around an empty bottle.

At the thought of the bottle, Hajime inspected the booze Oikawa had stumbled in with and appreciated the guy’s taste. He took a long drag, knowing it would help him sleep, and headed to bed. It didn’t take long after his head hit the pillow before he was out.

It was still dark when his eyes shot open at the sensation of an arm snaking around his waist. Hajime turned over to find Oikawa, bleary-eyed and yawning, curling up against his side.

“Bad dream,” Oikawa mumbled before burying his face in Hajime’s side.

Everywhere Oikawa was touching him tingled merrily, and Hajime thought his skin was going to burst into flames. The fact that Oikawa’s fingers were lazily tracing patterns on his hips was in no way helping. He started to order Oikawa to go the hell away, but his breath caught in his throat when he noticed how _beautiful_ he was. Contentment erased the puckishness and peace the devious smile.

“Ah, shit.”

Hajime couldn’t believe this was happening. He had never dated in his life and was rarely attracted, romantically or sexually, to other people. It’s partly the reason he agreed to having a female roommate; there was little to no chance of complications due to _that_.

How the hell was he supposed to know her closeted gay ex-boyfriend would crawl into his bed, feel him up, and turn everything upside-down?

He wouldn’t rule out liking guys; he just didn’t know what to do if someone liked him, how to like someone back, or how to tell if he did. What really confused him was how he was having this existential crisis at ass o’clock in the morning while the object of his personal debate was drooling on his bedding.

Deciding this needed resolving sooner rather than later, Hajime shook Oikawa awake. “Hey, Asskawa, wake up.”

Oikawa stirred back to life and gave him a lazy smile. “What is it, Iwa-chan?”

“Why do you like me?”

The question was drowned out by a yawn, but Oikawa sat up and took a deep breath as if he had heard it. “Why wouldn’t I? Well, you do have a rotten attitude and a potty mouth, but they’re endearing more than offensive.” Oikawa was too sleepy to dodge the half-hearted punch from Iwaizumi.

“There’s the fact that you were ready to give me a piece of your mind because you thought I treated Mariko-chan badly. You helped with Mariko’s share of the rent when she was short on cash a couple of months ago, and she wouldn’t stop talking about how great and understanding you were.

“And you’re actually unfairly attractive. Your arms are the things naked Greek statues are made of. Your hair is awful, but the fact that you don’t care makes it okay because you give off the air of someone who has better things to do.

“I also remember you from volleyball in high school. You were the captain of Aobajousai and their ace, and I was the setter for Shiratorizawa. I never forgave myself for going to school with the person I hated the most because I wanted to win, when I could have played with someone like you, who was humble and hard-working.

“Should I go on, or do you get the point?” Oikawa sighed and rested his cheek on his palm, regarding Hajime with a shrewdness that belied his alcohol-beleaguered state.

“I. . .” Hajime wanted to tell Oikawa that this was ridiculous, that these are traits, like basic kindness and not being disturbingly unattractive, exist in most of the population. His mouth opened a few times, only to abort mission before getting out more than a syllable or two. All he was able to say was, “Shiratorizawa? That was you?”

Oikawa nodded into his hand. “From middle school all the way to graduation, I was stuck with stupid Ushiwaka-chan and his spectacular lack of fun.”

Hajime felt a pang of sympathy for Oikawa. He remembered Ushijima Wakatoshi enough to figure that not-fun wouldn’t be inaccurate. His own team, on the other hand, were a boisterous bunch of guys who worked their asses off to make it to the prefectural finals two years out of three, only to be beaten by Shiratorizawa both times.

“Okay, so I guess I get it,” Hajime relented, “but I still don’t understand why you can’t just, you know, find someone better.”

Oikawa actually laughed at him. “Oh, Iwa-chan, you really are sheltered. You don’t get to pick these things, any more than you can control who you fall in love with or how. You can’t just _decide_ that you want things to be different.”

Thinking about his own lack of a love life and the peace he had made with it, Hajime said, “Fair enough. I’ve never even dated before because I just didn’t feel like it, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t or won’t happen. It is what it is.”

“Really?” Oikawa looked far more awake than Hajime had ever seen him. “You are ripped from head to toe and you have an ass you could bounce a ball off of, and you’ve never even _dated_? The universe is truly an unkind place.”

Hajime flushed. “You shouldn’t be looking at my ass that long, Shittykawa.”

“Ugh, what a waste,” Oikawa sighed. “So, Iwa-chan, here’s an idea. You don’t know if you want to have sex with me — or at all, for that matter — and I _really_ want to have sex with you. I propose a trade.”

His throat full of sand and blood roaring in his ears, Hajime gaped at Oikawa, whose expression was as far from joking as it could possibly be. “J-just like that?” he wheezed.

“Just like that. You don’t like it, and you’ll never have to see me again. I’ll lose Mariko-chan’s number.”

Shrinking down into the bedclothes, Hajime felt like a child being forced to make a monumental decision. “How do I even know I want to do it?” His voice was small and felt foreign to his own ears.

Oikawa smiled. “I think we’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Lips descended and met Hajime’s, and their owner managed to crawl on top of him without ever losing contact. The proximity of their hips punched the air from Hajime’s chest, and his hands roamed up and down Oikawa’s lithe back. Something made him want to know whether every part of Oikawa was as smooth and soft as the hands that cupped his jaw.

“I think you have your answer,” Oikawa whispered over Hajime’s lips before brushing their mouths again. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hajime couldn’t even find the breath to say no. Everything in him, every limb and cell, screamed to keep going, to learn this secret language of flesh. It took more strength than he thought possible to gasp, “God no.”

As if a switch flipped in Oikawa, Hajime found himself inundated with caresses and feather-light kisses. He never would have thought himself capable of the sounds coming out of his mouth, ranging from pathetic whimpering to filthy moaning. Oikawa discovered very quickly that the sides of Hajime’s neck were very sensitive and took full advantage of it.

“Mmm, Oikawa, how are you so good at that?” Hajime groaned as the other managed to find his sweet spots like he had a compass guiding him.

“Call me Tooru,” Oikawa breathed over Hajime’s ear, causing a shiver to run through his whole body.

“Tooru,” Hajime wheezed when Oikawa set his teeth softly into Hajime’s neck. “Shit.”

Oikawa chuckled and trailed his teeth downward, scraping a path over his chest and through the light trail of hair on his midsection. When he reached the waistband of Hajime’s jeans, he flicked the button open with his teeth and pulled the zipper down in a similar fashion.

It was easily the most erotic thing Hajime had ever seen, and his body reacted in kind.

A tongue darted out and greeted the V of Hajime’s exposed underwear, and Oikawa smirked as he met Hajime’s eyes over the plane of his stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, but Hajime could not have mustered the will to fight it, even if his life depended on it.

“Hello, little Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed as he lapped at the growing spot of pre-come spreading through Hajime’s boxer-briefs. “Let’s get you out of there, shall we?”

Oikawa worked Hajime’s jeans down past his hips, his knees, and then his feet before casting them aside. He dragged his hands up Hajime’s legs, caressing and massaging his way back to the part of Hajime that screamed the most for Oikawa’s attention. The room spun when Oikawa’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Hajime chanted to the ceiling as he curled his fists in the sheets. “How do people survive this?”

“Tale as old as time, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “I not only promise you’ll live through it, you will even enjoy it.” With little further ado, he pulled down Hajime’s shorts and took almost his entire, fully-aroused length into his mouth at once.

Hajime’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps as his hands instinctively laced through Oikawa’s just-long-enough hair and pulled. Oikawa hummed in the back of his throat, and Hajime felt the sound in the tips of his toes. Words that would make a sailor blush flooded out of his mouth of their own volition as he fought not to pound his cock into Oikawa’s mouth.

He whined when Oikawa pulled away, a trail of drool dribbling down his chin unchecked. “Do you know how hard it is to keep from coming right now just _listening_ to you?”

Blushing, Hajime murmured an apology, but Oikawa shook his head. “Please, don’t stop. Something about you having no idea how sexy it is to hear makes it even better. If you weren’t a virgin, I would probably be fucking you into the mattress right now.”

Hajime closed his eyes, and that particular image flashed in his brain. He could not restrain the groan of anticipation it elicited. “Then I won’t stop.”

Oikawa’s condescending smile made Hajime want to pin him down and ravage him with his mouth. Noticing his hesitation, Oikawa asked, “What were you thinking just now?”

With a growl, Hajime did exactly what he had been thinking and gorged himself on the sounds Oikawa made in response to his roving lips. “Iwa-chan learns quickly,” Oikawa wheezed. “Oh, _oh_ — definitely keep doing that.”

Hajime smiled as he sucked at one of Oikawa’s nipples through his shirt and brushed his thumb over the other. After a few seconds of this, Oikawa practically vaulted out of his shirt. Now they were a little more even. Continuing on his quest to figure out how Oikawa’s body worked, Hajime thumbed open Oikawa’s jeans and slowly dragged them, underwear and all, down Oikawa’s hips.

He was a virgin, not a prude or sheltered. It wasn’t the first cock he had ever seen, nor the first erect one that wasn’t his own. However, the sight of Oikawa’s arousal made his heart hammer and thrilled him to the core. Hajime _wanted_ Oikawa in ways he couldn’t begin to describe.

Oikawa took Hajime’s hands in his and stilled their movements. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Blinking at the gentleness in his tone, Hajime framed Oikawa’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

“Excellent.” Tugging himself from beneath Hajime, Oikawa asked, “Do you trust me?”

Hajime considered the question. Practically, he had absolutely no reason to trust someone he would have said he hated only hours before, but aside from his childish sense of humor and overabundance of guile, Oikawa had given him something that he never knew he wanted, something maybe only he could bring out of Hajime.

With very little uncertainty, Hajime answered, “Yes.”

His smile broad and almost too bright to look at with human eyes, Oikawa grabbed his pants and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a little box, like one would find in a vending machine, and he pulled out two foil packets. One was obviously a condom, but the other —

“Is that lube?” Hajime gasped, eyes wide. He knew how sex with two men worked, but somehow, seeing the tools of the trade in front of him made him tremble. A little because of nerves and a lot of something else.

Oikawa nodded. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Iwa-chan. Now —” he slapped the packets against Hajime’s knee, “— knees up.”

Hajime did as he was told, observing as Oikawa ripped open the corner of the lube packet and drizzled some on his fingers. Eyes wide, he watched Oikawa work the lube up and down his fingers until the middle three were covered in a fine sheen. “Now, this is going to be a little cold, but it warms up fast and feels so good you’ll hardly notice.”

He wasn’t ready for the cool digit that stroked his hole.

His hips thrust up in surprise as he gasped. Oikawa chuckled and wagged a lubed finger. “I told you it was cold. Now, stay still and don’t be so tense. It gets better when you just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

With a gulp, Hajime willed himself to stay still as Oikawa once again brushed his entrance, this time circling his fingertip around it before plunging in. A bestial cry ripped from Hajime’s lungs as his feet pedaled into the mattress. He couldn’t recall a time in his life when his body was this saturated with pure sensation, pure joy.

“Iwa-chan is noisy,” Oikawa said with a crooked smile. “I like it.”

Hajime lost track of reality as soon as Oikawa worked a second finger into him and started thrusting deep and fast. Hot waves of ecstasy oozed into every reach of his body, and his hands didn’t know what to do with themselves but grasp onto his aching cock and pump them in time with Oikawa’s. “Shit,” he gasped over and over.

Oikawa raked a heavily-lidded gaze over him and groaned. “So beautiful,” he hummed. “You are so beautiful.”

The words entered Hajime’s ears, his brain filing them away for a better time to think about them, but at the moment, the mere purr of Oikawa’s voice sizzled every nerve in his body. He didn’t know it was possible to feel so good that it almost hurt. He felt like he was going to come apart at the seams. “Please,” he whined, hoping that Oikawa knew the answer to the question he didn’t know how to ask.

Nodding, Oikawa pressed a third finger alongside the other two and Hajime took back everything he previously thought. Now it all felt like not enough, like he was merely on the cusp of something almost transcendent. Of course Oikawa had known, because he was already holding Hajime’s hip down with his free hand. “So good,” Oikawa said, voice thick.

“Please,” Hajime whimpered once more.

Oikawa leaned forward and left a long, lingering kiss on Hajime’s lips. “I think you’re ready.”

Hajime quivered in anticipation as Oikawa took up the packet of lube again, as well as the condom. With ease that had to come from practice, he slipped the condom  on and added more lubrication.

“Now, we can do this two ways. Face up or face down. Face down is easier and deeper, but face up is. . .” His face scrunched as he searched for the right word. “Sweeter.”

Considering both options, Hajime knew little of what he wanted or needed, but the idea of watching Oikawa’s face contort in pleasure was too heady to deny. “Face up.”

Oikawa gave him a toothy grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He hooked his elbow under Hajime’s left knee and angled himself until the head of his cock was pressed against the now-loosened opening. With a few more swipes of his fingers, Oikawa made sure it was fully lubricated before he slowly pushed his way in.

The words that spilled from Hajime’s mouth had no meaning as he tried to understand this new, bizarre fullness. It was tight, foreign, weird, but incredible just the same. Even when Oikawa stilled when he pushed in all the way, the steady burn began to throb in time with his speeding heart.

“More.”

Oikawa kissed Hajime deeply as he complied and slowly began thrusting up into him. Hajime was all but shouting into Oikawa’s mouth, but the latter didn’t seem to mind. To the contrary, he appeared to enjoy it. With a gasp, Oikawa gripped Hajime’s hand and placed it on his own cock. “Let me see you fuck your hand, Iwa-chan.”

The added sensation was almost too much to bear as Hajime’s hand moved in time with Oikawa’s movements. “Faster,” he begged.

Once again, Oikawa did as he was bid and began to hammer into Hajime, lifting his hips for a better, closer angle. Hajime’s eyelids flickered and his mind emptied of anything but the pure bliss that Oikawa was giving him. It pooled in him until he felt like he was going to drown in it. “Tooru,” was the only word in his vocabulary.

“Hajime,” Oikawa whispered. “Come for me.”

And he did. Milky threads exploded from Hajime’s erection and onto his stomach as the faint glow of streetlamps were engulfed in black. With a shout, he felt Oikawa coming down next to him, sweating and panting as if he had just run a marathon.

“That was perfect, Hajime.”

Hajime could not help but agree as Oikawa nestled into his side. With a sigh, he reached towards the nightstand for the box of tissues he kept hidden in the second drawer.

His blind, roving hand missed the mark several times before Hajime growled in frustration and leaned over to open the drawer, only to forget that he was still under the influence of the bonelessness of the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. His arm failed to support him and —

 

* * *

 

“— that’s when you fell off the bed and hit your head. You seemed to be okay, so I didn’t take you to the hospital or anything. Was that . . . okay?”

Hajime could no longer classify his redness as blushing. He was a shade of scarlet that should only exist on tomatoes as he thought about the unspeakable things he did with Oikawa. It was now obvious why Oikawa had been so hurt by his obliviousness. “I’m sorry,” he said truthfully. “I wish I had remembered. It sounds so —” Hajime’s breath caught as he saw Oikawa’s brows shoot up in surprise. “— beautiful, the way you describe it.”

Oikawa bobbed his head. “It was, Iwa-chan. I just hope you might be willing to, you know . . . try it again. So you remember this time.”

Not sure why he was surprised, Hajime was caught off-guard by Oikawa’s persistent earnestness. It just seemed to inconceivable that someone could enjoy his body that much, and take such elation in returning that pleasure. He felt an ache in his belly and knew it belonged to a moment from the night before, and it was one he knew he wanted to feel again.

“Yeah,” Hajime said with conviction. “I’d like that.”

Oikawa squeaked in pleasure and flung his arms around Hajime, planting short, wet kisses all over his face. “You’re the best, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime grumbled. “Now go back to sleep. My head is killing me.”

Oikawa merely laughed, and it brought a smile to Hajime’s lips.


End file.
